


No Place to Escape

by Catchclaw



Series: Mental Mimosa [5]
Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Jealousy, M/M, Pining, Yearning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-02
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2019-05-01 10:12:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14518227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catchclaw/pseuds/Catchclaw
Summary: This isn’t how it’s supposed to go, but then, when does life ever follow the script?





	No Place to Escape

**Author's Note:**

> Two takes on this prompt: Trapped or stranded together (on another world; on a desert island; in a cave-in; in a cabin during a snowstorm; in an elevator)

**Take 1** :

“This isn’t what it looks like.”

“Which is what, exactly?”

Steve slaps on a smile, does his best to keep it fixed when he turns around and meets Tony’s stony glare. “A complete and utter disaster. This is not that, Stark. Believe me.”

“I think,” Tony says, edging back from the door, from the cold and snowy maelstrom outside, “we must understand the English language totally differently, because to me, this is like the textbook definition of disaster. We’re supposed to be on the beach, Cap. I’m supposed to be knee deep in cheap rum and bikinis and instead, instead, I’m stuck in The Shining with two unfrozen octogenarians who lack any appreciation for how fucked up this is so, yeah, forgive me if I don’t buy into your whole everything’s coming up roses routine, ok?”

There’s a rush of noise outside then a strong arm on the door, three metal fingers curled around the edge, and Bucky ducks in, damp and shivering. “So whatever fucked up the engines,” he says without preamble, “did a fucking number on the rest of the jet, too. And there aren’t any houses in a five-mile radius, at least. My money’s on ten.”

Tony sits down hard by hearth, his face an unhappy mask. “Please tell me one of you is wearing a tracker. Or brought a cell phone.”

 

**Take 2** _:_

This isn’t how it’s supposed to go, but then, when does life ever follow the script?

Tony’s hasn’t for as long as he can remember. Or maybe his guardian angel never sent him the new pages. Whichever.

But this wrinkle is the weirdest one in a long time. His mistake–and oh, they are legion–was agreeing to this fucked-up trip in the first place, because of course, signing up to be alone with Rogers and Barnes was grade A stupid on its own, but then tying it to a test drive for his pilot-less jet prototype and then deviating from his own goddamn flight plan and taking them up and over Western Canada instead of zipping up and over Seattle–wow. A whole new level of what the fuck, Stark? Add on to that his decision not to bring a suit or a comm or any goddamn thing to keep him connected to the world beyond two unfrozen octogenarians and yeah, the day’s been downright bizarre.

At least the plane didn’t squash any polar bears when they crash landed, or a hockey team, or whatever it is people value up here. At least they only had to wade through knee-deep fucking snow for five miles until they found a cabin with a decent roof and a wood stove. There was running water and some only semi-terrifying MREs. Could’ve been a lot worse.

Except for the pesky part about there being no actual beds, or bedrooms for that matter. Or any semblance of privacy. No. Of course there wasn’t. Because somewhere, the grand scriptwriter in the sky was dying to watch Tony Stark suffer. A night in the middle of nowhere with no place to escape the buzz between Steve and Bucky, the never-ending hum that always seemed to flow between them even when they weren’t making eyes at each other or squeezing each other’s shoulders or trading smiles so fond and fucking loving that it made something in Tony turn over, like an old carburetor suddenly flush with fresh oil.

**Author's Note:**

> Couldn't decide which way to go with this prompt. Obviously.


End file.
